


King of May

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Reincarnation, Rites of Passage, Ritual Sex, Slightly drunk sex, bottom!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Merlin kissed Arthur on the mouth once, because it was spring, and spring made everything here wild. The burn flowing next to them laughed, because it was wild too; filled with water that was recently melted snow. Merlin's kisses kept Arthur warm, or at least they made the cold matter less. </i>
</p>
<p>Inspired by this KMM prompt: <i>They're students at some remote boarding school. They both like to sneak out after hours, and keep running into each other while out on the moors or whatever. Eventually they start talking, and this grows into kissing, and then touching and sex.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	King of May

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want you to think of this as underage. I envisage the sex as happening when Arthur is over 16, although I don't mention this explicitly in the fic. There is slightly drunk sex in this fic (there is no mention of any effects of intoxication, though), so don't read if this isn't your thing.

Arthur would see him quite often, when sneaking out at night. It bothered him, since the reason he escaped was to be alone. They didn't acknowledge each other at first, but it got too strange. So they would nod, in passing, acknowledging the unwritten rules of rural life.

And so Arthur grew used to his companion gradually. At first, the other was just a presence, then he became a human being, a someone. Then a boy, a little older than Arthur himself, with black hair and blue eyes. Then he became Merlin, and then he became so much more.

Merlin never talked about himself much. He would mention his mother, his friend Will, a life which seemed much less privileged than Arthur's own. Arthur gathered that he lived on one of the farms nearby. 

They would walk together, trace the hills and the moors, knowing the paths by heart now. Their land was a land of darkness. Only in summer would they know dusk and dawn. Around the summer solstice, they had endless twilights in the place of night. 

Merlin kissed Arthur on the mouth once, because it was spring, and spring made everything here wild. The burn flowing next to them laughed, because it was wild too; filled with water that was recently melted snow. Merlin's kisses kept Arthur warm, or at least they made the cold matter less. 

The moor was ancient. There were stones there, raised by people long ago. The same people who'd built the cairns and the cists. Arthur thought he saw them, at times. When the clouds rolled down from the hills, you could see anything. 

Merlin never lost his way, not even in the mist. He could find his way on Arthur's body, too; cold hands warming against Arthur's skin as he discovered valleys and hills and secret places no-one else had mapped. 

They celebrated Beltane in a broken circle of stones, drunk on each other and on something Merlin brought with him in a flask.

Merlin was heavier than he looked. All of his weight was in the hard, sharp parts of him. On his fingers, because the palms of his hands were hardly touching the ground. On his bony knees, being rubbed raw on the heather. On his hips, which dug bruises into Arthur's stomach. On his cock, rooted deep in Arthur's freshly opened body. 

Arthur found Merlin an easy burden to bear. The heather was soft, and Arthur sank in it comfortably as he took Merlin's thrusts and then his seed, deep inside himself.

Merlin's eyes shone golden, like those of his name-sake.

When Arthur crept back into his room, into his own bed, there was still heather in his hair and wet seeping down from the cleft between his buttocks to smear his thighs. He lay awake for awhile, feeling that something wonderful had been revealed to him; that the life he'd always lived, the life he lived at day, had suddenly grown too small for him. It was a boy's life, and he was a man now.

He was the King of May, harshly crowned in gorse and heather, anointed with precious seed. His kingdom was of mists and visions, and yet more real than anything else.

When he slept, he dreamt of the table, the sword and the dragon banner. He dreamt of battles past, and battles yet to come.


End file.
